More Than Just Words
by tarheelveteran
Summary: A radio talk show host is murdered just seconds after revealing a secret over nationwide radio. Tyler is falsely accused of cybercrimes. Contains minor spoilers for Bang Bang Your Debt and Shattered.
1. A Bad Air Day

Disclaimer: I do not own any of CSI Miami's characters or intellectual properties. I own only my OC and any characters you don't recognize.

**A/N. This is a reposting of my Ryan/Emmie series. I am flattered that some readers have asked me to bring it back. This time around it will have some minor changes. Contains minor spoilers for "Bang Bang You're Debt" and "Shattered". Since this is a repost, reviews are appreciated but not necessary. Again, I thank you, and here it is, back by popular demand, chapter by chapter. **

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**Chapter 1—A Bad Air Day**

"And you're on in three. Two. One."

At the prompting from their headphones, the two gentlemen sat intently at the cloth-covered table under the dark blue awning at South Point Park, keeping one eye on the signal lights in front of them and another eye on their audience seated on the grass. The huge white van was parked behind them with the program director watching them like a hawk through the glass, making sure everything timed perfectly.

As the green light came to life on the black soundboard, both gentlemen straightened up and leaned toward their microphones on cue.

"And we're back on WION News Talk, the Voice of Miami. You're listening to Bo and Beckwith, the Poke in the Eye Guys. Remember, our elected officials are just begging for a poke in the eyes, and it would be RUDE TO REFUSE! Today we're broadcasting to you NATIONWIDE today, live here in Miami, Florida, where the only way you can tell it's wintertime is because the rain is cooler." The man looked up and smiled in time to see a chuckle from the audience spread out on the lawn.

His partner turned to him and gave him a dry look. "Stop it!"

The man smiled at him. Part of his job was to annoy his partner, and this was the response he had hoped for. "Okay. Here in Miami, credible sources say that a top-ranking official in the Miami-Dade Police Department is in danger of losing his job because of his membership in the Adult Diapers Club." He glanced at the page briefly. "Supervisor Scott O'Shay, who is supervisor over the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, has belonged to a group of adults here in Miami who go to parties and restaurants wearing adult diapers under their clothes, but not for medical reasons, or they have private parties and wear adult-size diapers and baby clothes. Not only that, but they've been known to drink from baby bottles and sippy cups. But now word has gotten out, and the local citizenry are up in arms. The Miami-Dade Police Department is being flooded with calls demanding that Supervisor O'Shay be fired." The man paused. "Yeah, okay, we know politicians are just big babies, but give us a break here! Our tax dollars at work, Miami. We're so proud."

More laughter from the lawn.

"But hey, what's that about a diaper being like a boss? Always on your butt and full of crap?"

"I don't even want a visual of that."

The man smiled as he looked down at his mike again. "Now can you imagine that? Wake up one day and find out that the top-ranking police officer in your town dresses up in adult diapers and baby clothes and runs around with other adults who do the same. Not just diapers, but the whole shebang. Adult-sized baby bottles, sippy cups." He cocked his head." You know, if I were Scott O'Shay, this whole diaper business isn't I'd want to, uh_, leak out_!"

His partner nodded with a slight grin. "Yeah. Somebody might _pin that on you, right_?"

Both gentlemen smiled when they heard guffaws and boos from the lawn.

"But hey, here in Miami all our politicians whine, cry, and make a mess anyway…."

"Now come on, Bo! If Scott O'Shay can still do his job, then shouldn't this be a private matter? Should a grown man who runs around in baby clothes and drinks his Scotch and soda from a sippy cup be allowed to make major decisions for the Miami-Dade Police Department? Let's hear your opinion. The nationwide call-in number is 1-800-555-WION."

His partner turned to him. "Well maybe it is personal, but if you hire someone who does this, personal or not, wouldn't you worry about how it might spill over into your public life? After all, Supervisor O'Shay is a leader in the community. And the motto is 'Serve and protect', right?" I mean, how's old Scott gonna fit that nine millimeter into his diaper bag?"

More laughter from the audience on the lawn.

His partner glared at him. "Bo, it's not like this guy walks into the crime lab dressed like that."

"How do you know? You check his pants?"

"Bo, this is something the guy does on his _personal_ time! His _personal_ time! Why's that scare you?"

Suddenly the man straightened up and started to quake. His brown eyes glazed over and became vacant. His jaw quivered. He slowly leaned forward and collapsed on the table where he lay motionless.

His partner looked down at him for a second. "Well, I guess you think this is boring." Unfazed by his partner's actions, he turned back toward the audience. "While Bo takes another nap, let's go to a commercial break. Our nationwide number is 1-800-555-WION."

But something was wrong. The green light was still on, indicating that he and his partner were still on the air. He quickly clicked off his mike and looked at his partner, who was still slumped forward with his head sideways on the table, eyes closed. He reached over and nudged him on the shoulder.

"Hey, you okay, man?"

* * *

Horatio stood in the waning afternoon sun, hands on hips, scanning the scene. The body still lay slumped over the table, which was now cordoned off by yellow tape. Alexx kneeled by the lifeless talk show host and raised his head carefully."

"What does it look like, Alexx?" he wanted to know.

"I'm gonna have to get this one back to the lab to really find out what happened. No signs of foul play or gunshot wounds anywhere." She looked at his sleeping face. "You weren't just taking a nap, were you Sweetie?"

Horatio looked on. "And nobody in the audience heard anything suspicious. Let's see whether I can find out anything from Bo's partner." He strode over to the back of the white satellite van where John Beckwith sat in a chair, clearly shaken.

"Mr. Beckwith, Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Sorry about your partner."

John Beckwith, a middle-aged man with a blonde receding hairline, slowly rose and shook his hand. "Thanks for all you do, Lieutenant. We appreciate you."

Horatio never changed his expression. "Bo and Beckwith. The Poke in the Eye Guys. Never listened to your show. How is it that Mr. Bohannon keels over and you just keep talking?"

John looked at Horatio's feet. "That's the thing, Lieutenant. Derrick was known for doing crazy things like that, so when he just slumped over, everybody thought it was part of the act, including me. Even I had no reason to think anything was wrong. I just thought he was being Derrick Bohannon. I mean, this guy also does local theatre, One time he came to the studio dressed as a genie. Then another time he brought in a CD of rude sound effects and we talked about farting and whether—

Horatio quickly put his hand up. "I get it, Mr. Beckwith. So you were on the air, and all of a sudden Mr. Bohannon just collapsed?"

"Yeah. Sometimes when we have a subject we disagree on he'll do something theatrical. He just sort of looked forward for a second." The man breathed deeply and gathered his thoughts. "Come to think of it, it almost looked like he might have been choking or something had a hold of him. He couldn't have been choking, because we're not allowed to eat or drink on the air. His eyes went wide, and he sort of shook a little bit. But the guy is—was—a good actor." He shook his head at having to remember that his partner had only been gone for an hour or so now. "I had no reason to believe that anything was out of place."

Horatio dipped his head and listened intently. "Thanks Mr. Beckwith. I'll be in touch." With that he walked back toward Alexx, taking off his sunglasses. "Find anything yet, Alexx?"

Alexx picked up the man's left hand. "I think I have an idea now, Horatio. Burn marks on his fingers. It almost looks like he might have been electrocuted or touched something hot. I'll have to get him back to the lab to see just what happened."

The Lieutenant donned his sunglasses and looked at the sky. "I guess talk wasn't so cheap for Mr. Bohannon."


	2. Evidence in Hand

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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**Chapter 2—Evidence in Hand**

IAB agent Rick Stetler furiously tossed the red folder across his table at Horatio. It landed in front of him with a SLAP! as loose documents continued to slide in his direction.

Annoyed and dumbfounded, Horatio picked up the loose pages and thumbed through them before fixing his eyes on his nemesis. "You're sure about this, Rick?"

Rick scowled at him. "I'm sure, Horatio! I have the FBI and the FCC breathing down my neck. Isn't it your job to catch things like this first? Before it reaches me? I had to find out about this from the FBI satellite office, for God's sake! You never saw this?"

"No, Rick, I never saw this" he insisted. "I can't catch everything. I'll ask Tyler what he knows. The computer lab's been in disarray since Dan Cooper suddenly quit last month."

"These all came through the system while Tyler was on duty." He leaned on the table to look his nemesis straight in the eyes. "I'm recommending Tyler be relieved of duty pending a full investigation" he insisted.

Horatio stood up and looked straight back at him in a not-to-be-argued-with expression. "Rick, you and I both know Tyler wouldn't do anything like this!" He paused. "On second thought, no you wouldn't know that. You don't know this team like I know them. Tyler wouldn't be involved in anything like this." Horatio picked up the entire red folder and tucked it under his arm .

Rick's breath quickened as he glared at him. "Where are you going?

The Lieutenant locked eyes with him. "I'm going to find out the truth. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell the Feds about this? In case you forgot, we have a little matter of federal funding for this lab! Not to mention how we'd look if this ever reaches the media!"

He looked squarely at the IAB agent. "Tell them I'm doing my job and that I'm finding out what's going on. Look, Rick. The new computer tech we hired starts this morning. She was a systems expert with the FBI. Could you kindly hold off on ruining Tyler's life until we give her a chance to undo this mess?"

Rick stared daggers at him. "These are serious allegations, Horatio! How does it look for a crime lab's computer systems to have illegal internet traffic? There's the matter of our accreditation and our funding." He narrowed his eyes. "And you know what that means."

"Yes, Rick, I know what that means. Which is why I'm gonna do your job for you and find out what's going on! Before you try to do to Tyler what you tried to do to Delko a couple of years ago! You didn't win then, and you're not gonna win now."

Rick narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't need to be reminded of that humiliating defeat.

* * *

Tyler's eyes widened in horror. He shook his head. Adrenaline shot through him. Trafficking of illegal internet sites. Child porn distribution. Credit card fraud. He knew exactly what the consequences would be.

"Horatio, I swear to God. I don't know anything about this" he almost whispered, looking over the timing reports that had been collected by the FBI. "How do I prove that to you?"

Horatio nodded sympathetically. "I believe you, Tyler. Now, as you know, we have Mr. Cooper's replacement coming in this morning." He leaned toward his audiovisual expert. "In fact, why don't you take some vacation time this week? I'll have the new computer tech take a look and see if she can't figure out what's going on."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. The forms are in my office. Meet me upstairs in half an hour. You've been working very hard in the last month. You really need some time off. I think some paid vacation might be just the thing for you right now while we get to the bottom of this."

Tyler nodded. "Thanks."

Horatio patted the table. "We'll find out the truth. One way or another."

Tyler nodded. Dan Cooper never gave a reason why he quit suddenly. Neither he nor Horatio knew. The County had been looking to expand the cybertechnology department, and the timing seemed right. The senior position had been offered to Tyler, but he had been thinking about going back to school at night, and he knew how much more responsibility would be involved. He declined and chose to stay on in his current position, at least for the time being, even if that meant taking orders from a stranger.

* * *

Rick cursed under his breath as he stormed back to his office and slammed his door. Pressure from above and incompetence from below, he thought. He was completely fed up with IAB and the pressure. The Bohannon case wasn't helping matters any. Supervisor O'Shay wasn't too thrilled about his little secret getting out by way of a couple of talk radio hacks. Thanks to this little stunt, the lunatics and political activists were calling the department in droves. And the fact that Derrick Bohannon was killed just minutes after revealing this over nationwide radio didn't make the department look very good, either.

Back in his office, he scoured through the latest batch of paperwork. Out fell a stapled background check that had come to his office by mistake. This was a background check for a lab tech, not an armed officer, he thought. Horatio's office handled the techs. Rick was about to get up, walk over to the administrative assistant, and chew her out yet again for her incompetence when his eyes spotted something on the first page.

One uncle is a federal judge with Florida Middle, right here in Miami.

The father is a semiretired CEO with a major holdings company.

Rick's anger disappeared. He raised his eyebrows and read on. His mind wandered back in time to his last major humiliating defeat.

_Horatio looked at Rick's back just as Delko had gone into the elevator with the other two IAB agents. "What are you doing?"_

_Rick looked at the wall. "I don't have time for this."_

"_This isn't about Delko, is it? It's about you and me, isn't it, Rick?"_

_Rick turned slowly toward his rival. "Do you want to know what this is all about? I'll tell you. Your name wasn't the only one on the Lieutenant's list. I tested better than you. I interviewed better than you. I don't know what kind of favors you pulled with the Chief, but because of this, the only way I can make Lieutenant now is by doing this IAB CRAP! Nobody likes IAB—"_

"_Don't punish my lab over it!" Horatio warned._

_He looked very hard at his nemesis. "Now I'm just evening the score."_

"_This is a dangerous game" Horatio snarled._

_He smiled intently. "__It's one I intend to win. See you."_

After breathing hard to get that memory out of his head, he smiled again. "Emmalyn Stockburne, huh?" he said to himself. "Coming in this morning. And a widow on top of that. Maybe Miss Stockburne could use some company."

With a new resolve he tucked the papers under his stack.


	3. At First Glance

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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**Chapter 3—At First Glance**

Calleigh knelt down and shone her flashlight along the chairs under the canopy. She saw nothing remarkable.

"Hey Eric. Wanna help me move this soundboard?" she shouted behind her. 'We're gonna have to take this back to analyze it."

Delko came up. "Yeah. Hang on." He stood opposite of her and grabbed one end.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing?" a frantic voice shouted from the side. Eric and Calleigh carefully placed the black soundboard back down and looked in that direction. A heavy, middle-aged man ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and bolted toward them frantically with one hand in the air.

Calleigh stiffened up and put her hand on her weapon, just in case. "Sir, this is a crime scene. We're gonna need you to stand behind the yellow tape! Who are you?"

The man immediately stopped and backed up, hands up in the air, and ducked behind the yellow tape that was draped across the area just five feet away. "I'm Paul Galloway, the General Manager for WION. That sound board is expensive, and we're gonna need it for another show!"

Calleigh looked at him without expression. "Well right now it's evidence in a possible murder case. You don't look too broken up about one of your employees getting killed, Mr. Galloway."

He shook his head matter-of-factly. "I feel really bad for Mr. Bohannon. But the truth is, the sponsors are paying buku bucks for us to keep the show going. The morning and afternoon drive times are the biggest moneymakers in this business. The sponsors are gonna pull their accounts if we don't keep the road shows running." Mr. Galloway gave her a hard look. "Besides, if you knew the talk radio industry, I have hundreds of Rush Limbaugh wannabees out there waiting to take his place. All I have to do is pick up the phone."

"Well, we're gonna find out what happened to this one" Eric insisted. "And don't go too far." Paul Galloway just stared back at them anxiously from behind the tape. He didn't deal well with not being in control.

Horatio looked down at the morgue from the viewing area where Alexx hovered carefully over her latest post. "What do we know about Mr. Bohannon so far, Alexx? Got a COD yet?" he said into the mike.

Alexx looked down at the short, brown-haired, pale figure on her table as she spoke. "I really had to look at this one, Horatio. At first glance at the scene I thought it was a heart attack. But COD was definitely electrocution." She raised the dead man's right leg and pointed to some red marks while Horatio observed from the monitor. "Contact marks right here. Looks like he leaned his leg on the chair. And then there were the exit marks on his left hand. The current went up through his leg, and then out through his left hand. On the way there it stopped his heart and lungs."

"Any idea how much voltage?"

Alexx shook her head. "No telling. I'd say at least five hundred minimum to kill him that quickly. As long as that electric current was going through his body, his heart and lungs weren't getting the signals from his brain to work. His heart finally seized up, and he suffocated."

Horatio took out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial. "Eric. Horatio. The chair Mr. Bohannon was sitting in from where he was broadcasting. Check it thoroughly. Bring in and process anything he might have come into contact with."

Delko snapped his cell phone shut. "Derrick Bohannon was electrocuted. Let's take a look." He reexamined the soundboard. "I definitely see a handprint here. And that thing's metal."

Calleigh perused the chair. "The seat of the chair is plastic, but the legs are aluminum. Excellent semiconductor" she added. "Wait. Something else was here." She grabbed her camera. "Look, Eric. There's a trail in the dirt that goes back underneath the van. There was something hooked up to this chair." She bent down and furiously snapped pictures.

Eric looked with her. "Calleigh? On the chair. Looks like something melted right there." He pointed to the right front chair leg. "And right here on the edge. A couple of scratch marks."

Calleigh nodded. "So we're looking for a cable that might have been hooked up to Mr. Bohannon's chair." She looked up. "Mr. Galloway. We're gonna need to talk to whoever was in charge of setting up Mr. Bohannon's chair."

Paul Galloway shook his head. "He's probably long gone by now. We hire contractors to do that work."

She folded her arms. "Well, then we'll need the name of the company. Or would you like to come in as a possible accomplice?"

He didn't answer her.

* * *

Calleigh sat at the table and scanned the radio station's printed finance report before she met eyes with her suspect.

"Mr. Galloway. Interesting you would tell me there were plenty of replacements for Bo and Beckwith."

Paul Galloway used a Kleenex to wipe the sweat from his pale forehead. "Yeah? So?"

According to your sales figures, it looked like you were interested in finding someone else to fill that afternoon drive time slot. I guess the Poke in the Eye Guys weren't bringing in those sponsors like you'd hoped."

He smirked at her. "Are you kidding me? Okay, so Derrick Bohannon could be a little controversial. And yeah, I did have my eyes out for someone else. Derrick had a habit of stepping on toes. But I want to know what makes you think I'd kill somebody." He leaned forward. "Lady, you don't know this industry, do you? No job security whatsoever. You can get fired just like that. You say the wrong words or rough up the wrong crowd, it's here today and gone tomorrow. Just ask Don Imus."

"Don Imus wasn't murdered, was he?"

He firmly locked eyes with her. "Actually, I wonder if it's any coincidence Derrick died just minutes after talking about one of your supervisors. What's his name? Scott O'Shay. Why aren't you interrogating Diaperman?"

Calleigh looked back at him sullenly. "We're working on that. Incidentally, how did you get that little piece of information?"

Mr. Galloway shrugged. "We have sources."

"A mole?"

"Maybe."

"And when Mr. Bohannon was of no more use to you, was it time to get rid of him?"

His eyes blazed at her. "Are you suggesting blackmail?"

"You tell me. You're a possible suspect in a murder charge. If there's blackmail, I'd say you had a motive. Looks like Mr. Bohannon knew too much, and he was already starting to take some people down. Now why don't you tell me who your source was?"

Mr. Galloway stood up defiantly. "I didn't break any laws here, Lady. Now if you're done here, I'm busy!" With that he left.

She stood up. "Don't go too far."


	4. IAB Meets USMC

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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**Chapter 4—IAB Meets USMC**

Rick rapped rather loudly on Horatio's open door. Horatio looked up, obviously annoyed at being disturbed, particularly by his nemesis.

"Horatio. When is Emmalyn Stockburne supposed to be here?"

"I don't recall mentioning her name to you, Rick. How did you find that out?"

He raised his eyebrows. "It's my job to know what's going on, Horatio. You're aware the crime lab is my responsibility as well. And since you dropped the ball on this whole thing to begin with….."

The Lieutenant glared at him. "Rick, I'm aware of your responsibilities as well as mine. She's downstairs at the front desk right now. I'm supposed to go down to meet her, but she'll need to wait while I finish this."

Without another word, Rick disappeared from his sight, leaving him to wonder what the IAB agent might be up to.

As he made his way down the elevator to the security desk, he straightened his red tie and held his head up. He was sure a lonely, grieving widow could use a friend right now. After all, Yelina was lonely and vulnerable, too. At least in the beginning. New to the area? Navy widow? This should be easy, he thought.

* * *

The woman sat in the waiting area and glanced at her watch. It had been nearly an hour since she had checked in with Security. No matter. She carefully thumbed through the files she might need for HR. Old dog-eared FBI clearance codes. Letters of commendation, references, her Department of Defense discharge papers, and that Department of the Navy death certificate. She glanced up at photos and citations on the waiting room wall.

"Are you Emmalyn Stockburne?" she heard a voice say to her side. She quickly turned her head.

"I am." She found herself looking up at the tall, thin, black-haired man who looked down, smiling at her charmingly. She stood up. Way up. Almost tall enough to look him squarely in the eyes.

Rick swallowed and blinked. She was not quite what he had expected. This one was definitely not another Yelina. He found himself looking straight at a pair of determined, piercing green eyes. He could usually count on his height to make up for his other shortcomings, but he knew it wouldn't be much help right now. Unlike all those petite females in the lab, she was tall, poised and muscular. That face was weathered and calculating. It was plain from the way she carried herself, she had been in some kind of authority as well.

He quickly got himself past this and stuck out his hand to her. "Sergeant Rick Stetler. I'm with the management staff."

Her piercing, determined eyes softened up as soon as she realized she was addressing a sergeant. "Sergeant Stetler. Nice to meet you. Emmie Stockburne. I'm the new computer tech." She shook hands with him. Rick's eyes widened, as he wasn't used to a woman who had such a strong handshake. "Lieutenant Caine couldn't be here, so he asked me to come get you. Call me Rick."

She nodded slightly. "Yes, uh, Rick." She picked up her file folders and reached for her old black tool case. Before she could touch it, Rick immediately grabbed it. "I'll carry that." He wasn't ready for the weight. His eyes widened again as his back hunched over. "Wow! What's in here?"

"Computer tools and old parts. A lab doesn't always have what I need, so I prefer to have my own. I lift weights, so it's not a problem for me to lug that around."

Rick smiled back at her. "I'll personally take you to HR so you can get processed." As she walked beside him, he assumed more importance than usual. He held his head up, chest out, making sure his new find had plenty of room to walk beside him.

The woman looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. She wasn't used to this kind of attention on her first day.

Rick and his dangling red tie sat uncomfortably close to her at the white table in the HR office, nearly hovering over her like an overprotective parent, reading over her shoulder, pointing at paragraphs, making sure she filled out and signed all her paperwork properly. It was making her uncomfortable.

"Let me have your clearance codes, uh, Miss Stockburne. Is that what you like to be called?"

"The civilized world calls me Emmie."

He chuckled as though on cue. "That's funny, Emmie." He almost snatched her folder up from her and started to thumb through it. She watched him, nonplussed.

"Don't worry, I'll bring this right back for you." Rick quickly stepped away from the table with her clearance codes and school credentials. He returned a few minutes later, handing her the originals. "HR needs copies of those so they can get you in the system."

"Do you want to pay my insurance premiums for me too, Rick?"

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled that tight smile of his. "That's good. That's really good. I like that."

As Emmie glanced over all of her forms and copies, Rick's eyes stayed glued to his copies of her paperwork. "Wow. I'm just really impressed with these credentials" he fawned.

She looked at him hopefully, wanting to make a good first impression with someone. "Oh, thanks. My Quantico letters?"

He gave her a dumb smile. "Actually, I was thinking about your uncle here on the Federal bench. Your father with a major holdings company. I mean, this is excellent."

She nodded, looking a little disappointed. "Oh, _those_ credentials."

Rick produced one last piece of paper. "Oh. And you'll have to sign a waiver for the department's fitness center. I think you'll really like it." He looked at her. "Maybe we can work out together some time."

Emmie shrank back from him slightly and pursed her lips. "Actually, do you know whether they have a punching bag? I really want to get back into my kickboxing."

He raised his eyebrows. Somehow "women" and "kickboxing" were not words he'd seen in the same sentence.

That hovering was beginning to make Emmie tense by now. "Well, I'd ask you to have lunch with me today, but I think the lab is gonna need your help."

"Thanks. I was sort of hoping I could just get settled in and get used to things. So what now?"

Rick grabbed her tool case, more carefully this time, and escorted her back upstairs. Without knocking, he stuck his head importantly into Horatio's office.

"Horatio. I have Emmie Stockburne here. I took the liberty of getting her processed downstairs at HR. Kindly make sure she gets whatever she needs" he said matter-of-factly.

Horatio looked at him dryly. "I'll do that, Rick. Thank you for your time and trouble."

As he turned to head back to his office, he grinned at her again. "We'll talk some more later, Emmie."

Emmie looked at Rick as though she had seen a ghost.


	5. Getting It Straight

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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**Chapter 5—Getting It Straight**

Horatio stood up and came to her from behind the desk. "Miss Stockburne. Sorry to keep you waiting. Welcome aboard." He glared at Rick. "Thank you, Rick. I'll take it from here."

Rick sniffed at him and walked away, being sure to give Emmie another glance before he walked out.

She turned her attention toward Horatio. "Morning, Sir. It's good to see you again." She smiled and shook hands with her new boss, feeling much more comfortable now.

"I trust you've had a chance to get settled in since the interview?"

"Working on it. Still waiting for the Navy to send my stuff here. It'll be nice not having to sleep on an air mattress again."

Her new boss looked dryly through the open door from where Rick had been standing. "So what did you think of Rick Stetler, our IAB agent?"

The cybertech tech raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Uh, IAB? As in 'Bureau of Internal Affairs'? He didn't mention that part. Just told me he was from the management staff."

"Don't worry. Rick tends to leave out certain details when it suits him. Why don't we head downstairs and get you set up in the computer lab? I was made aware of an issue earlier, and Tyler's on vacation this week. You'll understand better when you know the full story. We're really gonna need your help."

Emmie followed him down the elevator and into the Miami-Dade computer lab. From the doorway she scanned the monitors and the AV equipment.

"Nothing's changed since the interview" he assured her. "You're familiar with everything here?"

"Yes Sir. In fact, it's a bit older than what I used in Birmingham."

"I believe you're used to getting the short end of the stick where it comes to state and federal funding. Why don't we sit down here for a second?" She followed him to the main work table where he produced the red folder that Rick had tossed him earlier. "The first thing I need to show you are these FBI printouts. It was brought to my attention that we've had some illegal internet trafficking through here. Are you up to date on your tracing?"

"Yes Sir."

"Great. Take a look at these, and tell me whether this is something you're familiar with. Sorry to throw you into the thick of things on your first day, but this is very important."

Emmie opened the stapled copies and thumbed through. She nodded her head. "Another one of these, huh?" She then stared at the equipment behind her. "I've dealt with this sort of thing before. It's usually either a disgruntled employee, a hacker, or an out-of-work dot-commer." She looked up at him. "Almost always an inside job."

Horatio gave her a serious look. "Emmie, Tyler wouldn't get involved in anything like this, I assure you."

She nodded at him. "I don't doubt you, Sir. Let me just make sure my pass codes are in the system, and I'll get started." She wheeled the office chair back to the table and skimmed the top pages. "I'm thinking the best place to start is to check these IP addresses and times against what's been through here. And if that doesn't help, I'll read your switching system."

Horatio tapped the desk as he turned to leave. "I'll take you around and introduce you to everyone a little later. Right now, I appreciate your getting started on this." He started to leave. "You'll have your orientation tomorrow morning. Call me if you need anything else. My office is on the speed dial."

Emmie focused on the console and the monitors, clicking the keyboard and trying out her passwords. The monitors overhead came to life, and for once it seemed like she was able to access everything she needed for the first time. Though the computer lab itself looked pretty basic as far as computer labs went, this one somehow looked neglected. Filing and case folders had piled up in the corner. Some rolled-up cables and soldering rods sat out on a utility shelf. She would have to work on getting this place up to speed.

But that would come later. Right now her first concern was Tyler and her new co-workers.

* * *

The white mobile broadcasting van occupied most of the crime lab's garage area.

Delko and Calleigh, now each wearing old gray coveralls, stepped in and stared at the massive black wall of video monitor screens, keyboards, and control switches.

Calleigh carefully analyzed what was in front of her. "According to the van's owners, the mobile station's power source is 208-volt. But Alexx says Mr. Bohannon had to have taken five hundred volts easily, judging from the burns he had on his hand and his leg. So that means somebody had to have messed with the power supply in here somewhere." She gazed at the dark wall. "This is bigger than our computer lab" She looked at Eric. "I bet this would make Tyler jealous."

Delko grinned as his eyes scanned the sea of cue monitors. "I bet our new computer tech is gonna have fun with this. H said she's coming in today."

Calleigh smiled. "I understand she's also former FBI. We just can't seem to get rid of those Feds, can we? I hope she knows her AV. We're gonna need her on this case." She shone her flashlight on any part of the controls that might be of interest. "Nothing out of place. Dusting for prints on these controls would be a waste of time, I think. How many people handle these controls?"

Delko studied his crime scene photos again. "Derrick Bohannon was sitting toward the right front of the truck. Now it looks like somebody ran a line through this van somewhere. But where?" He got down on his hands and knees and shone his flashlight under the massive console. Nothing remarkable. Then he shone his flashlight up. "Wait a second!"

Delko shone his flashlight more carefully underneath the console. "It looks like somebody drilled a hole underneath this table." He picked up a plastic bag and scraped off the evidence. "Wood shavings. I'm seeing metal flecks. I hope we can match it to something." He then scanned the wall underneath. About one foot above the floor he noticed that the swirl of power cables were not tied together. "And right here, it looks like the cords got tampered with. I don't know about it being a waste of time getting samples. Somebody did this recently."

"There's gotta be some prints" Calleigh said as she handed him his fingerprint kit. "By the way, I'm starting to think we can rule out Mr. Beckwith as a suspect."

"Why's that?"

Calleigh motioned for Delko to come over to her side of the van. "Take a look here. Another bore hole." Her flashlight followed the twisted power cords on her side. "Looks like nothing got tampered with on this side, though.

"I wonder whether Mr. Beckwith just got lucky."

"Or whether our murderer wanted to kill both of them."

Delko looked at her. "Or was trying to cover all the bases."

"The killer had to know where Mr. Bohannon was going to sit. We better chat with whoever set up just before the show."


	6. Making a Reputation

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: I would like very much to thank those of you who have left reviews. **

* * *

**Chapter 6—Making a Reputation**

CSI Ryan Wolfe settled into the armchair and faced his boss. "You wanted to see me, Horatio?"

"Mr. Wolfe" Horatio said methodically, "As the lab's supervisor, I'm a little too close to Tyler to get involved with this case. But I can put you on it." As he gathered his thoughts, he carefully explained to the young CSI about the internet trafficking and how Tyler was on vacation for the remainder of the week. "Can you handle this?"

"Sure."

The Lieutenant stood up. "As you know, Dan Cooper's replacement just arrived today. I'll need you to work with her on this. She was an FBI systems expert, so she should know what to do. Everything's downstairs, so maybe this would be a good time for you to meet her."

The first thing, Emmie decided, was to check wiring in the computer lab's main console. She removed the jacket of her suit dress and draped it on the chair before putting two reference binders on the floors to kneel on. She then slid the binders forward and repositioned her knees on them, holding her flashlight in her fingers. She accepted dirt and dust as part of the job, but this main console seemed to have accumulated more than its fair share.

Horatio and Ryan stepped into the computer lab where Horatio had noticed that the paperwork was still spread out on the work table and the computer chair had been pushed out into the aisle. He and Ryan stepped forward to take a closer look. The Lieutenant smiled when he could only see a beige-clad rearend and legs sticking out from under the console. He cleared his throat. "Miss Stockburne."

Emmie became aware of voices and legs behind her. She kept her head down and quickly wiggled back out in time to see her boss. "Uh, Sir? Sorry, I was just looking at the wiring."

Horatio never changed his expression. "That's okay. Emmie Stockburne, I'd like you to meet CSI Ryan Wolfe. He'll be working this case with you, so you two will need to talk. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." With that he left.

Those eyes and the handsome CSI caught Emmie's attention. As he smiled at her, she felt herself blush. It didn't escape her that he was just about as military as she was. "Hi Ryan. I'd shake hands with you, but I'm kind of filthy."

"Hello, Emmie. That's okay." Ryan looked to the brown-haired woman who was slightly taller than he was. "Glad you're here. Tyler was really having a tough time."

"You didn't see my best side there, by the way" she kidded. "Well? I'll just let you know that I reviewed the FBI printouts. How's your knowledge of this area?"

"I can hold my own" Ryan said with a grin.

"That's quite all right. I'll take care of this side of it. Just tell me what you need."

"I can do that."

* * *

Scott O'Shay breathed hard and paced sullenly in his dark, wood-paneled office, staring daggers at everything. Rick Stetler swirled his drink nervously and avoided contact with him as he stood across from the oak conference table.

"Look, Scott, It's none of my business what you do in your spare time. And how the hell should I know how this got out?"

The supervisor shot him an angry look. "Thank you for the affirmation, Stetler" he snarled. "Now why don't you do your job and do some poking around? I want you to find out how this got out to a couple of loudmouths broadcasting from a van!"

Rick averted his eyes to hide his resentment. "I don't know how it got out."

Scott stiffened up and faced him. "Well dammit, somebody knows! My job's on the line now, and all Miami's fruits and nuts are coming out of the woodwork. And the fact that the guy was killed right after he told _the whole free world_ doesn't help me very much! Or you either, for that matter."

The IAB agent hesitated. "There's somebody in the lab who might be able to help."

Scott looked quickly at him. "Who?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "We have a new computer tech."

"How the hell is a computer tech gonna help us?"

"You're not gonna believe this. I found out by accident, and she just started this week. Her name is Emmalyn _Parr Stockburne_." He shifted rather confidently in his chair. "'Stockburne' and 'Parr.' Do those names ring a bell?"

Scott O'Shay nodded thoughtfully and sat down at his desk. "Judge Parr? Stockburne Holdings? And she's related to all of them. You sure about this?"

The IAB agent looked more sure of himself now. "That's just the beginning. Caine hired her. He finally did something right."

"And why aren't you out there making nice to Miss Stockburne?"

"Working on it, Scott. These things take a little time." Rick hesitated and shifted in his chair again. "Besides, she wasn't exactly what I expected."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rick took a deep breath. "You should see her. She's an ex-Marine. She's almost as big as I am, and she kickboxes."

Scott smirked. "What. You afraid she's gonna beat the crap out of you? Not that that would be hard to do."

He glared at the supervisor. "I'll take care of her. Don't worry."

The blonde smirked back at him. "Yeah, Stetler, you're such a ladies' man, aren't you? Careful, or this one might give you a black eye, too."

Rick found it harder not to make a snide comment. "I can handle her, Scott. I just have to do this away from Caine, because if he finds out, you know what's gonna happen."

Scott pursed his lips and looked at the wall. "What else do you know about her right now?"

Rick shrugged. "Husband was a Navy Seal. He died about a year ago. No kids. Last job was with the FBI satellite office in Birmingham. She's lived here about a month now."

The blonde supervisor approached him, tapping his fingers on the conference table as he gathered his thoughts. "Here's what you do. Saturday night's coming up. I think Miss Stockburne is lonely and might like to go to dinner and see a little of Miami at night. Let her know this really is a great place. _Casually_ bring up the subject that you have a friend who needs some help. And for God's sake, you don't have to tell her everything. Get some names and direct numbers. Judge Parr would be a good start. Find out who she knows in Washington and where. Don't be too obvious about it."

"You're talking to me like I've never done this before!"

"I also know how you screwed up the thing with Yelina! Now shut up! Get those contacts. Oh, and, uh, make it worth her while, Rick. Anything she wants, you will give it to her. If money's a problem I'll reimburse you." Scott raised his head. "And if that doesn't work, do you still have that remote-controlled camera I gave you?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

He looked at Rick firmly. "Invite her back to your place for some drinks or something. The more the better. Make her nice and relaxed and, uh, pliable. The camera is just in case she needs some convincing later on down the road."

The IAB agent raised his eyebrows. "Why? She's not married or a police officer."

"No, but she could be, and some pictures could be helpful in the future. Really, really get to know her. Besides the fact that she's an ex-Marine and could probably beat the crap out of you. What does she like? Who does she keep company with? And how well does she really know her way around that computer system?"

Rick breathed deeply. "I'll take care of it."

"And dammit, this time, watch that temper of yours!"


	7. The Sound Technician

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 7—The Sound Technician**

Calleigh stepped into the lab where Maxine Valera was hunched over a microscope. "Hey Maxine. Got your page. What's up?"

Maxine Valera looked up from her work. "The Bohannon case? Got one hit from CODIS from those epithelials you took out of the van's wiring. Pretty difficult to sort out. Probably a lot of sound techs worked on it. But then there was a Mark Wycoffe, and an unknown male not in the system. This one showed up more clearly than all the others."

Calleigh studied the printout and raised her eyebrows. "Okay. I guess it's time to see who else was in there."

Delko looked firmly at the older man who had a salt-and-pepper goatee. He wore a black, faded WION tee shirt and had his graying hair in a ponytail. He seemed a bit confused as to why he was in the interrogation room.

Delko sat down and glanced at the case file before addressing the man. "Mr. Wycoffe. I understand you're the program engineer and that you were doing the Bo and Beckwith show when Derrick Bohannon was killed."

Mark Wycoffe fingered his thinning beard and nodded. "Yeah. I'm not sure what I could do for you, though."

"You can tell me what happened. And then we'll go from there."

The man dipped his head a little as he drummed his fingers tensely on the black table. "Where do you want me to start?"

Delko looked at him more firmly. "That's a QPS truck. It doesn't belong to WION, right?"

"Right. Cheaper to rent."

"How about starting with when you set up for the show?"

Mark Wycoffe gathered his thoughts. "We rolled the truck in at noon for setup. Bo and Beckwith have the afternoon drive time, which is three to six, so I always have to do a sound check and make sure everything works."

"What do you do in a sound check?"

"Everything. Top to bottom, especially since it's not our van. Start with the cue monitors. Then power and power backup. Then a physical check. I have to be careful because the smallest flaw in the sound equipment can screw it up."

"Did you see anything unusual when you checked the sound room? Anything out of place? Any wires tampered with? Any modifications in the sound boards or tables?"

The man looked at Delko in surprise. "No! All I do is sound check and get the show going. I don't even let anyone in there when I'm inspecting or doing sound check."

Delko paused as he glanced at the open folder again. "And you said the truck rolled in at noon?"

"Yeah. That's right."

Delko pulled out a piece of paper. "This is a permit from the Miami-Dade Department of Parks and Recreation. This didn't authorize you to have the QPS truck in there until one in the afternoon. Did you violate that permit, Sir?"

Mark Wycoffe glared at the CSI. "Hell no! Let me see that!" He held his weathered hand out as Delko showed him the copy.

"So did you violate a city ordinance, or did you just lie to me, Mr. Wycoffe?"

He didn't answer.

"Okay. Since you don't remember, let's try this. Did you say that you don't let anyone in there while you're doing sound checks?"

"Yeah."

"I have a sworn statement from Paul Galloway, the general manager, who said his son Keith was in there at the same time as you. Was there anybody in there while you did your sound check?"

"Yeah. Keith isn't supposed to be there. But he's a big electronics buff, so I let him in quietly and told him to stay out of the way. You know, just watch."

Delko nodded thoughtfully. "Was Keith out of your sight at any time?"

Mark Wycoffe sniffed. "Yeah. Plenty of times. I have to step outside the van and help run cables. The contractors don't always do it right. Keith isn't an idiot. He knows not to touch anything. We're practically family in that station."

"Really? I heard Mr. Galloway talk about how easy it is to fire a talk show host."

"Maybe a talk show host, but not a good sound engineer. I've been with that station for over ten years now. If WION fired me today, I could have a job somewhere else tomorrow. Especially here in Miami with all the clubs and the production studios."

"Fine. Think you can tell me the truth about what happened during the Bo and Beckwith show that day?"

The man glared at him. "Yeah. Everything was fine. I watched the cues, and I didn't notice anything unusual, until…."

"Until what?"

Mark Wycoffe looked troubled and breathed deeply. "I adjusted the base on the soundboard." He motioned with his left fingers. "The last two slider knobs on the left. I'll show you if you want. When I slid the knobs to just the right level, I heard this really weird humming sound. Subsonic. Sounded like an electrical interference of some kind. You know, like the old TV sets when somebody would run an electrical appliance and the picture wouldn't work. The system went down for a second before the backup generators kicked in. Next thing I knew, John Beckwith said 'Well I guess you're bored by all this….' I didn't think anything of it at the time, but then next thing I know, John shuts off his mike while we're still on the air. I could see from the cue screens that Bo was slumped over."

Delko never changed his expression. "There's another thing that's bothering me, Mr. Wycoffe. Didn't you say that you check the van thoroughly, but you didn't notice this? You say you care, that the smallest flaw in the sound equipment can screw it up." He produced the photos of the freshly bored holes in the underside of the console tables. The sound engineer studied the photos. "I don't know anything about that" he protested.

"And you won't lie about your assault and battery charge, which got you fired from WION the first time? That's how we could match your DNA and fingerprints."

Mark Wycoffe just looked at Delko. He had no answers. He finally sighed.

"Mr. Wycoffe, you're looking at Murder One. That's twenty-five to life, a lot longer than an assault and battery. Now why don't you tell me what's going on?"

The man sighed. "Paul Galloway wanted me to babysit his kid while I did the sound check. That kid's a nut case. This is the same kid who set up an electromagnetic field in his dorm room. He got kicked out of his college for doing that. So I said 'Fine. Just stay out of the way and don't touch anything.' And yeah, he was out of my sight for a little while. Hey. I got a good job, I spent years keeping my nose clean. That A&B is in the past. And the kid is what he is. Kind of a Momma's Boy, if you ask me. But if he has anything to do with this, it's news to me. And yeah, if you want to know, for the record, I DID notice those holes drilled in the bottom of the console. But I'm trying to keep my nose clean and didn't say anything. The radio station will pick up the tab for the damage."

"What's under that console?"

"Switches. Conductors. Plugs."

"Would Keith Galloway know what to do with a soundboard?"

"It's actually Keith Salter. Stepson. And maybe. I mean, the kid's smart, and the kid's bored. Really dangerous combination."

Delko nodded as he stood up. "I'm gonna need the tape of that show. And I'll need to talk to Keith. You're not off the hook yet, Mr. Wycoffe. Stay close."


	8. The Art of Intimidation

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

**Chapter 8—The Art of Intimidation**

Ryan stepped into the computer lab to find Emmie Stockburne proudly wearing her new powder blue lab coat and her dangling ID lanyard, clicking dutifully at the keyboard and transfixed on the main monitor. "Morning, Emmie!" he greeted. "How's it coming?"

Emmie turned her head toward the brown-eyed CSI. "Hi Ryan. Great, now that I've got some field coffee in me. I'm running a security sweep on this right now. Looks like Tyler hasn't had a chance to do that since this Dan Cooper left." She furrowed her eyebrows. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I dug up on here."

Ryan stood close and looked over her shoulder. "What kind of stuff?"

The cybertech snapped on blue latex gloves and knelt down under the table. "I had a chance to crawl under this thing again, and I'll show you what I found." She shone her black flashlight behind the main console. "This time I pulled the whole desk forward a bit."

"You could've asked me to help you."

She looked down and smiled for a moment. "See that?" she said, pointing to a plain gray plastic box that hugged the back of the console itself, holding all the plugs and modems. "I didn't spot this yesterday, but I came in early and had a chance to really get my hands into everything."

"Descrambler?"

"Yep. Looks like the homemade variety, at least from here. And I saw that the security software looks like it's been, uh, altered. Somebody knew what they were doing." She clicked her flashlight off and put it in her lab coat pocket. "I'm gonna have to shut the system down for a good half hour so I can unplug that thing and wire it back up properly. I gloved because I figured you'd want me to bag and tag this."

"I'll need that box and probably those cables. Anything that might have prints or DNA on it. Got replacements?"

She smiled. "Either in the supply cabinet or in my tool case. Incidentally, Lieutenant Caine wants to introduce me to everybody in a little bit, so that would be a good time to tell them the system is gonna be down for maybe a half hour or so." She chuckled. "Maybe this time I can work on it without mooning the crime lab again."

Ryan grinned. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Emmie giggled and averted her eyes. "That was so embarrassing. I was trying to set an example on my first day."

"You did, don't worry" Ryan teased.

IAB agent Rick Stetler strode off the elevator, eyes scanning to find anywhere there might be trouble. He paused when he heard a sound that was distinctly out of place.

Through the computer lab's glass he clearly saw CSI Wolfe smiling at Emmie Stockburne. Rick could also barely hear her laughter. It was a musical kind of laughter. It didn't sound to him like two co-workers discussing a case. He huffed and his eyes blazed as he walked faster.

"Wolfe! Come here!"

The sharp command stunned both Ryan and Emmie as both whipped their heads in the direction of the lab entrance where a furious IAB agent stood, hands on hips, the better to show that badge.

"Be right back" Ryan assured her, not so confident in his voice.

Emmie watched through the glass as Ryan faced up at Rick who stood with his hand on one hip, always keeping that badge visible, and pointing upward with the other hand. Ryan appeared to shake his head and chuckle in disbelief until Rick lowered his head and raised his eyebrows firmly, determined to make his point. She could see Ryan huff and finally lower his head, turning back toward the lab while Rick watched him, hands still on hips, glaring after him.

A much humbler CSI nodded at her. "Emmie, I'll be back. I have to take care of something."

She looked up in surprise. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah." With that he left as Rick's blazing eyes followed him all the way out of sight.

Satisfied that Ryan was safely out of his way, Rick strode into the lab, sitting down in the extra office chair and facing her. "Morning, Emmie!" he said rather cheerily.

Emmie looked at him warily. "Morning Sir. Everything okay with CSI Wolfe?"

Rick narrowed his eyes in the direction of the door. "Yeah. Just some police business."

Emmie then looked at the ceiling. That didn't sound anything like police busness.

He then gave her a softer look. "Tell me. Do you have any plans for Saturday night?"

She shrugged. "Not much. Unpack some more, feed my cat, email some old acquaintances."

"You can do those any time. The chief asked me to personally take you out for a sort of a welcome. If Saturday night works for you, then it works for me. Any preferences?"

"I don't know Miami too well yet. I like seafood, though."

Rick smiled at her. "Great. What time should I pick you up?"

"Actually, I don't even live in this county, and I don't want you to have to drive all the way. Okay if I meet you there?"

"Fine. I can do it that way. How about The Silver Palm? It's right on the shore, and they have a live band out on the veranda. I'll make six o'clock reservations. Sound good?"

"I don't want you to fuss like that over me, Sir."

He put his hand up. "No, no. Call me Rick. And it's no problem. Part of my job. I'll give you directions."

"Don't bother, Sir, uh, Rick. I'll Mapquest it from my place."

"Okay then. See you later." As he spoke, his eyes discreetly scanned her work station to gather more intelligence about her. Quantico letters. A kickboxing championship. He then spotted a picture of her in a red ball gown, genuinely happy, standing next to a man he assumed was her late husband in his medal-encrusted Navy dress uniform. It made him swallow and blink again. But he quickly gathered himself. Before leaving the computer lab, Rick smiled again and gave her a friendly wink.

Emmie just stared at his back. Something was very wrong about this.

* * *

Ryan hung his head as he sat at in front of Rick's desk. Out of the corner of his eyes, he just stared at the folders and the pens. Anyone who sat in this chair was having a bad day.

With his eyes leveled on Ryan, Rick sat down behind his desk and looked straight into his eyes.

"Wolfe, we need to be clear on something. You know about the policies against fraternization."

"Sergeant Stetler, we were not fraternizing" he protested. "Besides, she's not a cop; she's a lab tech."

"I know what she is!" Rick snapped. "It's her first week, and I don't need you to give the impression that this lab is all fun and games. Your butt's skating on thin ice as it is with your little gambling incident." He leaned forward, just inches from Ryan's face now. "You screw up just one more time, and you're gonna be smiling pretty with that woman on camera again. You are to stay away from Emmie Stockburne. Do you understand?"

He looked at the IAB agent resentfully and huffed.

"_Do you understand, Wolfe_?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"Good." He pointed at the door. "Now get the hell out of my office!"


	9. Shadows of What Used to Be

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Special thanks to HarmySings for all the reviews. **

* * *

**Chapter 9—Shadows of What Used to Be**

Emmie and Ryan hovered over the lab's laptop as Emmie diligently clicked the keyboard. "I went back there into the switching room and ran the traffic off each separate bank. Sure enough, it was all different from what ran through here. "Actually, I catalogued each bank, and it looks like each one except the first is really the same. The main computer system ran off the front bank, while the rear was sort of on a different frequency. Here's some of what ran through."

She clicked the keyboard again. A list of IP addresses descended down the screen. "Many of these are foreign addresses. Almost impossible to trace from here. Gonna have to get my old friends at the FBI and probably Interpol on these as I speak, especially the child porn." She raised her eyebrows and sniffed. "There was one in here, though. Bunch of guys wearing nothing but diapers and blue socks. Must've been Halloween. Hold on a second." She brought a picture to life on the screen. "I don't think they knew they were being photographed."

Ryan's eyes widened. "That guy in the middle! That's O'Shay!"

"Who?"

"The blonde guy? He's over the whole Miami-Dade PD. This came through our data bank?"

The details flew together in her head now. "It sure did. This isn't part of the Bohannon case, is it?"

Horatio stood at the lab's doorway. "Mr. Wolfe. Miss Stockburne. Meeting in the breakroom."

Emmie quickly shut off her laptop and folded the top down as she and Ryan stood up and followed their boss down the hallway.

In the break room, Horatio stood next to her opposite a sea of CSI's and labcoat-clad techs. "Everybody, I want you to meet Emmie Stockburne. She's heading up the computer lab. She started this—"

"_Damn! Who made this coffee?"_ a voice yelled from behind the partition. Horatio's eyes widened as he was stunned into silence. There were some snickers as all eyes turned to the wall behind him.

Detective Frank Tripp walked out, glaring into his half-full coffee cup. He stopped suddenly when he realized that he had interrupted something.

"Emmie, this is Detective Frank Tripp. I think he likes your coffee" the Lieutenant said with a grin.

"Sorry. Hey. You could patch a roof with this!"

Emmie smiled. "Thanks. Comes from my Marine Corps days."

"And this is Calleigh Duquesne. She heads up Ballistics. This is Eric Delko, one of our CSI's, and Natalia—"

Emmie and Natalia glanced at each other in disbelief. Emmie then narrowed her eyes at Natalia. Horatio sensed the tension but said nothing about it. Natalia's eyes widened. It was evident to him that she and the cybertech certainly remembered one another.

"Please make Miss Stockburne feel welcome. She and Tyler will be covering the computer lab for the day shift. Thanks."

As CSI's and techs exited the computer room, Horatio sidled up to her. "You and Miss Boa Vista worked together at some point, I take it?"

Emmie looked at him with wary eyes. "Yes Sir. You know—"

"That she was an FBI mole? That's all in the past. She's come a long way since then."

Emmie's look softened. "Yes Sir. Also, I was going to ask you how soon Tyler could come back."

"Why?"

"Based on Ryan's and my findings and Tyler's skill level, there's no possible way he could have trafficked those sites."

"Why don't we walk back to the computer lab, Emmie?" Horatio suggested.

Emmie sat with Horatio and Ryan back in the computer lab. "As I was saying, there is no possible way that Tyler could have trafficked those sites. Not if he doesn't have access to that switching room. Also, I noticed that the switching bays were in different stages of changeover from stacks to blades. I looked at your shipping records, and it looks like you still have a lot of blades and cables sitting somewhere in this building. At least that's my hope. And I could sure use Tyler's help in getting things back up to speed. I haven't met Tyler, but I didn't think he was capable of doing that either."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "I ran the fingerprints. None were Tyler's" he agreed.

Horatio smiled back. "Nice work, Miss Stockburne. Mr. Wolfe. I'll give him the good news."

"Oh, and one other thing. Tyler's gonna have to work the Bohannon case" Emmie told him.

"Why?"

"Gold Tone Broadcasting? The company which owns WION?"

"Yes?"

"I have ties to their parent company."

"Which would be?"

"Stockburne Holdings and Properties. I'm gonna have to recuse myself."

Horatio nodded. "Yes you are. Well, maybe I better page him and see if we can't get him in here right away."

Emmie pursed her lips. "Also, Ryan and I found this." She raised the screen of her laptop. "I'm told this had something to do with the Bohannon case?" She hit the refresh button, producing the picture of Scott O'Shay and some unknown acquaintances arm in arm, wearing only diapers, oblivious to any camera.

"I wonder if we're not all working the same case" Ryan noted.

Horatio narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And this picture came through our system?"

"Yes, Sir. Unknown IP address. I can try to trace it, but I wonder whether that would be a good idea." She looked at the picture thoughtfully. "There's more, Sir."

"More?"

"Some of these websites had to be accessed with a credit card number." She clicked the keys again. "I did find one number that came up again and again. The card belongs to a Timothy Speedle, deceased."

The Lieutenant's eyes now narrowed in rage.

She watched him carefully. This wasn't good. "You know him?"

He nodded his head with a resolve. "Yes. Yes I do. What else can you tell me?"

"Who else knew this computer system inside-out?"

He immediately yanked out his phone and pressed the speed dial. "Delko? Horatio. I think it's time we bring Mr. Cooper in here for a chat." He then snapped his cell phone shut. "Miss Stockburne, don't touch anything else in that switching room until Tyler gets in. You are completely off this case until I say otherwise. And I do mean completely."

She nodded her eyes warily. "I understand."

As Horatio walked out, Emmie turned to Ryan. "Ryan, everything okay between you and Internal Affairs? I didn't get you into some kind of trouble, did I?"

Ryan now turned away from her. "No. Everything's okay. Hey Emmie, keep me posted on this. Good work." He stood up to leave as if in a hurry. "Call me if you find out anything else."

"See you, Ryan."


	10. The Danger Zone Revisited

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: You can hear and see "The Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins (Top Gun Soundtrack), by going to YouTube and typing "Kenny Loggins+Danger Zone" in the search bar.**

* * *

**Chapter 10—The Danger Zone Revisited**

"We really didn't need to come in on our days off, did we, Eric?" Calleigh said.

Eric sat down on the floor of the broadcasting van and snapped on his latex gloves with a resolve. "No, but there's a lot more to this case than I thought. We have to see what's under this counter. We keep turning up dead ends. Besides, there's nobody in the lab today, and we won't keep getting interrupted. This panel pops off. Want to get that end?"

Calleigh quickly snapped on her latex gloves and helped Delko pull the white panel off the front of the sound board, helping him gently place the panel on the floor. Delko shone his flashlight at the switching components and studied the chart. "There's the backup generator over there" he noted, looking at the white metallic wall in the back. "Yep. Calleigh. Right here." He pointed up under the last two slider switches. "Something else was hooked up under there. See those scratches? And those two wires hanging are probably the two wires that should be hooked up." He immediately took pictures of the discrepancy.

Calleigh nodded. "This backup generator is 270 volts. The primary electrical supply is 208 volts." She moved closer to the three-prong outlet. "And I think I see where our killer attached the wires. There's some copper fragments hanging out of that outlet, Eric. Is the power turned off? I'll collect those and see if we can get something off them."

"Mark Wycoffe said the power went out for about one second before the backup generator kicked in" Delko said.

"Maybe a second was all it took."

Delko moved closer. "Nope. This backup generator is in two parts. There's your 500 volts. When the main supply overloaded, the backup took over. It looks like first Derrick Bohannon got 208 volts. One half of the backup kicked in, and then the other. Derrick Bohanon got a double dose." He turned around and reached for his fingerprint kit. "This thing's been driving me crazy, too." He grinned at her. "Besides, this way I get to work with you without getting interrupted."

"Calleigh smiled at him. "Somebody here really knew this system. Mark Wycoffe suggested Paul Galloway's stepson, but right now we don't have enough to get a warrant. Eric, we've got to find that wire."

Delko nodded. "Besides, Mark had a lot of holes in his stories. How should I really know what happened? We better get Emmie or Tyler to listen to the tape from that show and find out whether anything turns up. That case file should be in the computer lab."

Emmie breathed deeply and enjoyed the darkened silence of the empty crime lab. Perfect atmosphere for some Saturday maintenance in getting the computer lab back up to standard, she figured.

First order of business. She started up the main console and searched the internet for The Silver Palm. From what she could gather, The Silver Palm was a historic resort with a five-star restaurant, hotel and spa. Upscale, even by Miami's standards, Emmie noted. No prices for the online menu or the wine list. In other words, if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.

Emmie shook her head in disbelief. It sure seemed like Rick was going through a lot of trouble—and money—to entertain a new, low-level team lead, she thought. Highly unlikely he would do this for anyone else in the lab. He already knew about her family and her political ties. That had to be the only reason. Curious, though, as to who would be picking up the tab.

Laying that thought aside, as she prepared to clean and catalogue the equipment, Emmie took out her old CD of eighties dance tunes. She slid the homemade disc into the soundboard's main controls and snapped the hatch closed. Horatio allowed her to play her music while she worked, so long as nobody else minded. As "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins blared through the lab's overhead speakers, she adjusted the volume and felt her energy rise, biting her lip, closing her eyes, and putting her hands on her desk, bobbing her head. For just a few minutes she was an energetic, carefree, unattached young Marine back in Quantico, surrounded by single girlfriends and all those guys who would fight for her attention. Military life had not yet thrown her so many curve balls. As the music's energy and the memories quickly took over her system, she swayed her arms and her upper body, and eventually began to pop her shoulders in time to the music, giving up the stresses of the last year and giving in to the memories of a simpler time.

As they walked into the darkened, quiet hallway, Delko looked at Calleigh. "Somebody's playing music in here! Sounds like the computer lab." They walked warily and stopped at the glass wall to see Emmie completely lost in her music, still bobbing her head and swinging her shoulders, her back turned toward them. They looked at each other and smiled.

Delko suppressed his laughter as he put up one hand. "Wait here." He crept up behind the bobbing, nodding, swaying computer tech and stood just inches behind her with a smile. Just as she suddenly turned around, he mimicked her moves. Her eyes widened and she shrieked, surprised and embarrassed. She started to turn, but Delko reached out and quickly grabbed her hand.

"No, come on. That's good!" he insisted, trying to dance with her. Calleigh smiled at them through the glass. Emmie finally wrenched away from his hand and hit the soundboard's kill switch with a SLAP! The computer lab went silent as she leaned on the console and covered her face, turned away from him.

"Eric! That's embarrassing!" she almost yelled through her hand. "God! Who else saw that?" She sweated as she could feel her face flush.

Delko laughed. "Just me and Calleigh. Oh, come on! You're good! Bet you can't Salsa like me, though!"

Calleigh walked in. "So, you like Top Gun, huh?"

Emmie nodded with an embarrassed, tired smile. "Yep. That was part of my life." She grabbed a Kleenex and wiped her eyes as she came down from that beautiful high and recovered from the embarrassment. "God, what a great first week. First I moon Ryan, then this." She sat down and shook her head, catching her breath. "So you two got the same idea, huh?"

"We came to take a look at the Bohannon file. Maxine Valera said she ran a cross check on the unknown male's DNA to see if she couldn't find any close relatives."

Emmie pointed to the stack of case files on Tyler's desk. "It's over there. I'm not allowed to even touch it. Conflict of interest."

Calleigh walked in as Delko picked up the case file and read through the new DNA analysis. He raised his eyebrows as he looked at her.

"What is it?" she asked, sidling up to him.

"Seven common alleles."

"Who?"

Delko shook his head. "We better call H. He's not gonna believe this."

Calleigh read the results over his shoulder. She raised her eyebrows. "This is about to get really messy."

Emmie looked on as Delko whipped out his cell phone and informed Horatio of his findings.

"Calleigh, what can you tell me about a place called The Silver Palm?" Emmie finally asked.

Calleigh smiled. "The Silver Palm? Nice place. I can't even afford to park there. If I had that kind of money, I'd love to go to their spa one day. Why?"

Emmie shrugged. "Just curious. Thanks."


	11. Not What He Had Planned

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 11—Not What He Had Planned**

Rick Stetler did his best to hide his nervousness as he sat out on the white marble bench and watched one upscale car after another drive up to be met by a valet. Emmie Stockburne was nothing like any of the others, he thought. She wasn't as lonely and vulnerable as he had hoped. Best if she could just give up those contacts so he could end this. He still had things ready at home for Plan B, just in case it would come to that.

He noticed a weathered old Chevy Blazer come up the drive. Sure enough, the tall, determined female Marine stepped out and handed her keys to the red-jacketed valet. She looked like she could belong in a place like this if she tried. He took a breath and stood up, motioning to her.

Emmie's eyes darted as she tapped up the steps in her heels. Rather than a lonely widow pining for attention, she looked like she was there for a networking dinner, ready to meet him on her own terms-neat, modest, professional. She spotted him and gave him a polite smile. "Hey Sir, uh Rick. You really didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"Yes I did. And don't worry, the County is picking up the tab." He stood next to her. "Shouldn't you take my arm or something?"

She shrugged with a smile. "Okay. All this and I get a personal escort too, huh?"

He smiled back at her. "If that makes you happy."

Emmie played along and hooked her left hand under his jacketed elbow, following him into the huge, magnificent, dimly-lighted hallway. It certainly was one of those places. "Thank God I dressed up for this" she said.

As they sat together, Rick seemed awfully eager to show her the wine list. "You pick the wine. Anything you want" he insisted pleasantly.

She put her hand up politely. "I don't drink. You get whatever you want, though. Diet soda does me fine."

He breathed deeply. So much for the drinks. "Scotch and soda for me, and a diet soda for the lady" he simply told the waiter.

She folded her arms and smiled at him slyly. "Oh, so now I'm a lady, huh?" she teased.

"I never said you weren't" he said with some resentment in his tone.

As they waited for dinner, Rick continued to study her. "So Emmie. Since you know so many people, I was also wondering whether you could help me with something."

I'll certainly try" she said, doctoring her coffee delicately.

"I have a colleague who's having a problem in business, and I know you have some contacts up at the state level, and I was hoping—"

"Who's your friend? If you could write down his name and number for me, I'll see what I can do. And I'll need to know what his problem is. It's a 'he', right?"

"I can't really say."

"Sorry, Rick. My family just prefers to hear from me. Or else have your friend call me, and I can set up something. Should I give you my number?"

Rick leaned forward. "Come on. You should know you can trust me."

Emmie smiled. "Trust you? I don't know. Delko told me about your little pie-stealing incident in the break room." She broke into that musical laughter. "I'd love to have been a fly on the wall when that happened!"

"Don't listen to everything you hear in there!"

As the waiter brought out their appetizers, Emmie put up her finger. "Just a second." She bowed her head in silence for a few seconds. "Okay. This is really nice."

Rick breathed deeply. "Right." He knew at this point that Plan B was going to be in order. Bargaining was getting him nowhere. It was time to be charming. He watched her as she ate and looked around, especially at the beach off the veranda. "So, you enjoying this?" he asked her in a softer voice.

"Yes. Thanks." Emmie might have really liked this if Rick weren't constantly grilling her about her past colleagues and trying to piece together information. Now he seemed to gaze at her like a lovesick teenager. She found herself leaning away from him slightly.

It didn't escape Rick's attention that Emmie longingly watched couples slow dance on the veranda as the small jazz band slowed its tempo. He immediately stood up and stuck his hand out to her. "Come on. Let's dance."

She looked up at him surprised. Then she nodded. "Well, okay. Why not?" Accepting his hand, she followed him out to the marble dance floor where he scooped up her right hand and pulled her close enough to him that she found her nose in his neck. She quickly eased herself back to a safer distance. Emmie allowed herself to get lost in the music and the feeling of being held close and swayed. She closed her eyes. It had been a long time.

"You enjoying this, Emmie?" he whispered into her ear over the music?"

"Yeah. Thanks." It sounded to him like that resolve of hers was finally melting.

Rick then felt Emmie shudder and turn her head away. She paused to wipe her eyes and turn her head from his view. He stepped back. "What's wrong? Are you crying?"

She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Nothing. I just…haven't done this in a few years. Sorry if I scared you."

It was time for the next step. He took her arm and guided her off the dance floor, out to the marble railing where it was quieter. He watched her bow her head as she listened to the surf. "You miss your husband, don't you?" he asked gently. "Come on. I don't live far from here. I'll make you some coffee. You can talk to me about it."

She looked at him warily as she dried her eyes some more. "Sir, I don't think that's a good idea."

Rick never lost that charming, confident smile. "Why not?"

"I'm sure you know about 'appearance of impropriety.' You are over the lab, and it just wouldn't be right."

He felt his options slipping away. "I just invited you to come home with me to talk. That's all. What were you thinking I had in mind?"

Emmie gathered herself and stepped back from him. She had had such propositions during her years as a Navy wife and knew full well what was implied. "Good night, Sir. I really appreciate everything you did. Please be sure to thank the chief for me. I guess I'll see you at work Monday." She turned to leave.

Rick knew she had completely slipped away now. It wasn't supposed to work like this. In sheer desperation he quickly reverted to a power play. "I paid for dinner, Emmie!" he insisted loudly.

Emmie turned slowly, her eyes blazing at him. "I thought you said the County was picking it up." She shook her head. "You're not even a good liar, are you? Well here." She furiously yanked a twenty dollar bill from her purse, balled it up, and backhanded it at him. He flinched when it landed on his chest and fell to the floor. "I'll pay you the rest when my widow's pension gets straightened out!" With that she spun around and walked away, refusing to acknowledge his presence any further.

"Emmie! Come on!" He tried to follow her, but she sped up, disappearing into the crowd. He looked around nervously when he realized people were watching him.

Rick angrily walked back to pick up the crumpled-up bill. After staring at it for a second, he stuck it in his waist pocket. O'Shay wasn't going to like this. Worse than that, he realized he couldn't stop thinking about her—the way that brown hair blew in the beach breeze. Those determined green eyes almost high up enough to look at him. Those healthy, curvy legs on those heels. That musical laughter. He really didn't know any more about her than he did when she walked in. She was still a mystery to him.

He drove home, still unable to get Emmie Stockburne off his mind. Unable to sleep, he took off his jacket and looked around his bedroom. He could still feel her close to him in that slow dance. The smell of her perfume still hung on his jacket lapel. He allowed himself to breathe it in some more before tossing it over a chair.

Rick's eyes then turned toward the small silver camera that still rested inconspicuously on the dresser. He had set it up earlier just in case he had to collect some evidence. Then Scott O'Shay's words went through his mind.

"_Make her nice and relaxed. The camera is just in case she needs a little more, uh, convincing somewhere down the road."_

In a fit of anger he swept his arm across the dresser top. The camera and everything else flew against the wall and landed with a crash.


	12. Mother and Son

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**Chapter 12—Mother and Son**

Tyler watched the animated waves of the soundboard display as he separated out the tracks of the last Bo and Beckwith show. "Right here is when it happened" he noted. Delko's eyes were fixed on the different wavelengths.

"_Bo, this is something that the guy does on his PERSONAL time. His PERSONAL time! What are you so afraid of?"_

Delko couldn't help but notice the spike of a subsonic wave at that exact moment. "Right there, Tyler. Separate that out. I wonder whether that was the electric current Mark Wycoffe was talking about."

Tyler clicked the keyboard and amplified the subsonic buzz. It pervaded the rest of the track. "It started about two seconds before John Beckwith said he saw Derrick Bohannon freeze up and then collapse. Wait a second." He stiffened up and clicked the keyboard again. "There's something else on there."

Delko's eyes widened. "Yeah. I hear it too. What is it?"

"Another voice. Let me bring it up." Tyler and Delko strained to listen. "It sounds like it wasn't supposed to be there. Someimes electromagnetic waves will carry sound."

"_Now."_ The voice was silent for a few seconds. _"Okay, turn it off."_ The voice suddenly sounded panicky. _"HEY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN? I SAID TURN IT OFF! YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM, MAN!"_

Horatio knocked on the door of Paul Galloway's home. He looked at Calleigh expectantly.

A short, thin, brunette woman with straight black hair opened the door. She looked like she had gone to great lengths to preserve her age. "Can I help you?"

Both Calleigh and Horatio made sure she could see their badges. "Anne Galloway? Miami-Dade PD. We have a warrant to search these premises" Calleigh said in a not-to-be-argued-with tone, handing Mrs. Galloway the folded piece of paper. "And we're gonna need to talk to Keith Salter. Is he home?"

The woman was obviously stunned by this turn of events, but she knew better than to protest. "Come in, please." She turned her head. "Hold on. KEITH!"

Delko sat in the interrogation room across from the young man who had slight features and blonde hair that swept over one eye. His dark-haired mother sat next to him, not sure what to make of the situation. He seemed as though he was trying to hide something from the entire world, not just the police. He seldom made eye contact.

"Keith. I recognize your voice from the last Bo and Beckwith Show" he affirmed.

The young man still faced the floor but glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

Delko produced a black transcriber and clicked it on before placing it on the table.

"_HEY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? I SAID TURN IT OFF! YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM, MAN!"_

Delko looked at him expectantly. "Sounds like you."

His mother's eyes darted nervously. "Keith, what's going on?"

"Mrs. Galloway? We found out that Keith is actually Paul Galloway's stepson. Twenty years ago you were Scott O'Shay's assistant. Keith is Scott O'Shay's biological son, isn't he?"

Anne Galloway folded her arms and turned her head, saying nothing.

Delko produced a DNA test swab. "Keith? If we were to take a DNA sample, will it match the DNA we found on the backup generator in that van? Whoever opened that hatch and wired it up was pretty nervous. We found perspiration all over that front hatch."

"He was paying us" Anne Galloway finally said, looking away from Delko. "Scott sent us money every month for me to keep my mouth shut about Keith. Yeah. It happened a long time ago, but he still kept sending us the checks. I'm not just talking about child support. When I found out I was pregnant with Keith, he paid me to keep quiet. It was a lot of money. We were able to send Keith to a good engineering school."

"Till he got kicked out."

Anne Galloway's eyes blazed as she faced him. Keith looked away.

Delko looked at the young man point blank. "Did you kill Derrick Bohannon, Keith?"

Keith was now fighting tears as he took a deep breath. "No. I swear." Judging from his pleading eyes and firm voice, Delko was satisfied he was telling the truth.

He then produced a crime scene photo. "We found a dirt trail where somebody had hooked up a wire to Derrick Bohannon's chair. Did you hook up that wire? We have a warrant to search your house right now, so you might as well tell us what we're gonna find out anyway."

Keith Salter closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I strung the wire. But it was only supposed to scare him. I hooked it up to the backup generator and grounded it on the slider switch."

"The medical examiner said at least five hundred volts went through him."

The young blonde shook his head adamantly. "No way! Two hundred and fifty volts! That's a lot, yeah. It would have ruined his day, but it wouldn't have killed him."

"Did Derek Bohannon's little 'accident' have anything to do with Scott O'Shay's membership in the Adult Diapers Club, Keith?"

* * *

The young man narrowed his eyes. "I wanted to teach that dirtbag a lesson for what he did to my dad! That's it! How would it make you feel if the whole world knew your dad ran around doing weird stuff like that? But I didn't kill him."

* * *

Horatio and Calleigh looked over the vacant Galloway residence. "I don't know whether Keith had anything to do with Mr. Bohannon's murder, but I know we need to find that wire" Calleigh insisted. "I'm gonna check their garage." She picked up her field kit and headed for the back door.

"I'm going to check Keith's bedroom" Horatio told her.

Horatio looked in Keith's bedroom. He saw what looked to be a typical college-age boy's bedroom—an unmade bed with a computer in one corner and shelves full of computer games, college books, electrical manuals and DVD's. It didn't escape his attention that Keith kept a hodgepodge of stripped and dismantled electrical parts and posts on the desk, including some industrial-grade plugs that looked like they had been removed from their cords recently.

As the Lieutenant scanned the shelves, one thing stood out to his trained eyes. With a gloved hand he reached out and pulled down a DVD case that poked out slightly from the rest. This one looked like it had been taken down and reshelved recently.

He studied the cover. "Hmm. _Who Done It?_ An old Abbott and Costello murder mystery."

But then something shiny poking out from under Keith's brown dresser piqued his curiosity. He noticed a copper strand that looked like it had been stuffed underneath. Carefully he grabbed an evidence bag and pulled the strand out with his gloved hand.

It was attached to a white industrial coated wire that just seemed to keep coming at him. He estimated it was about thirty feet long. Judging from the dirt granules in the sheathing, this cord had been pushed onto the ground somewhere within the last week. Both ends had clearly been stripped, separated and wrapped around something.

Horatio took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Tyler? Horatio. I want you to get me information on a movie called _Who Done It?_ It's an Abbott and Costello movie."

Tyler quickly clicked the keyboard and searched the internet.

"Says it was from 1942. Abbott and Costello want to be radio writers for a murder mystery. Ends up the radio announcer is murdered for real." Tyler raised his eyebrows. "The announcer is electrocuted while sitting in his chair, the same way as Derrick Bohannon. With a wire connected to the radio's control board."

Horatio nodded. "Really? So our killer used an old Abbott and Costello movie for a how-to on killing a radio announcer. Nice work, Tyler." Horatio snapped his cell phone shut.

As he pocketed his cell phone he walked quickly to the garage where Calleigh was still scanning. "I think we have our murder weapon."


	13. Talking With Mr Cooper

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: Special thanks to CelticLady00 for letting me borrow Jade, her OC, who is working the night shift at the computer lab and, might I add, is doing a great job!**

* * *

**Chapter 13—Talking With Mr. Cooper**

Dan Cooper sat at the interrogation table with his eyes averted. He tried to give off the impression that he didn't understand why he was being questioned, but the truth was, it tore at him that he was now on the wrong side of that table and on the wrong side of his now former colleagues. Horatio stared in another direction, doing his best to control his anger as he stood in front of the crime lab's once-trusted AV tech.

His former boss paced slowly, directing his voice to the brown case file. "Mr. Cooper. It was bad enough that you took liberties with Speed's credit card. That would have just gotten you some community service and a criminal record. Illegal internet trafficking? Child porn distribution? I think that carries five to fifteen in the Federal pen. The FBI is going to want to have a chat with you pretty soon. I was hoping maybe we could speak with you first."

"Nobody got hurt, Horatio" Dan insisted in a much more humble voice. That line had worked with Calleigh.

Horatio barely maintained his composure as he turned his eyes toward Dan and raised his voice. "Tyler was almost brought up on charges and fired because of your little business on the side, Mr. Cooper. There were underage kids in those pictures you trafficked. Try again!"

Dan pursed his lips and looked sideways. He really had no answer, and both of them knew it.

His former boss now looked at him almost sympathetically. "But I get the feeling you didn't act alone. So if you want to save yourself, it's time for you to start talking. Whoever you're protecting is gonna let you take the fall, and you know it."

He stared forward into the distance as he took a deep breath. "O'Shay" he barely mumbled.

Horatio furrowed his eyebrows at him. "_Supervisor_ O'Shay?"

Dan looked at the Lieutenant ruefully. "Yeah. Scott O'Shay paid me to get the stuff for those freaks he hangs out with. First he just said it was a social club. Look, when I found out what he was really into, I didn't want any part of it. Speed's card number was right there. I mean, I didn't think this was gonna happen." He now stared into the distance. "And they kind of had me for the distribution. So I didn't say anything, just hoping maybe it would all go away and nobody would notice."

His former boss nodded. "Well, unfortunately for you, the Feds and the FCC noticed. Did you rig the crime lab's computer system?"

"Not all of it. They gave me a little help. I'm good, but I'm not THAT good."

"Who helped you?"

"One of O'Shay's diaper buddies. He didn't give me his name. O'Shay just had him call me and tell me what to do. I'd know his voice, though."

Horatio looked firmly at Dan now. "Mr. Cooper? Listen to me. I want names. I want phone numbers. I want dates. And give Tyler some IP addresses." He narrowed his eyes at the former AV tech. "The tech we hired to replace you is undoing the damage as we speak. Let me know if there's anything I should tell her. She used to work the FBI Cybercrimes unit, and she doesn't like you very much right now."

Tyler walked into the computer lab. "Morning Emmie. You're in early."

Emmie smiled at him slightly. "Hey Tyler. I just like to make sure everything's in place before things get hopping."

"How was your weekend?"

She shrugged. "Okay. Fed my cat, unpacked, emailed some old acquaintances. So it looks like you and Ryan are gonna have to work on both sides of the Bohannon case now, huh?"

"Yeah. Jade is helping me on the night shift with some of the tracking. I have to look at some bank statements she ran down overnight."

"Sounds good. Horatio gave me the go-ahead to start fixing the switching system, so I'll be in the switching room working on that."

Emmie opened her bottom drawer to search for the mapping folders when a plain white envelope simply marked _Emmie_ in blue ink caught her attention. With her finger she discreetly slit it open, finding only a fresh, crisp twenty dollar bill inside. Not the same bill she had thrown at Rick Saturday night. She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she debated whether to talk to him about it. Instead she stuck it back in the envelope and left it in the bottom drawer. She would deal with it later. Of her many priorities, Rick's attention was not one of them right now.

On the way back to his office, Horatio stepped into the open IAB office without knocking. "Rick."

Still miffed from his experience Saturday night, Rick Stetler looked at the Lieutenant somewhat contemptuously. "Lieutenant Caine. What a pleasant surprise. Make yourself at home. How may I be of assistance?"

Horatio stood in front of the desk opposite his nemesis. "Been lonely since Yelina left Miami, Rick?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've taken quite an interest in the new computer tech."

He leveled his brown eyes at the Lieutenant. "And what's wrong with that? I'm just trying to make her feel welcome. She's new to the area, a Navy widow—"

Horatio stood with hands on hips, staring away matter-of-factly. "Father's a CEO, political ties all the way to the White House. Very handy to have in your pocket if you get tangled up in something like, say, the Bohannon case?"

Rick now stared daggers at his nemesis. "I don't know what you're accusing me of!"

"She told me about your little dinner date Saturday night! The Silver Palm, Rick! Awfully pricey place for you to be taking a computer tech, don't you think? She says you started grilling her for names and numbers for a 'friend.' If that's the case, maybe you can give Miss Stockburne her twenty dollars back."

Rick deliberately threw his pen down on the desk. "Look! I simply invited her to a networking dinner Saturday night! And it's a legitimate business expense, since she's a department supervisor. I tried to be nice to her, but I guess she misunderstood, and now she's accusing me of hitting on her!"

Horatio faced him more directly, eyes narrowed. "That's not what she told me, Rick. Emmie Stockburne has a stellar record with the Marine Corps and the FBI. She's not going to just walk in here and suddenly lie about everybody now, is she? I hired her because she's a good leader and a good systems expert." He now leaned closer to the IAB agent to emphasize his point. "And just so you know, as her supervisor, I've given her a direct order that she is never to call in any political favors for you while she works here. And she takes orders very well."

"You weren't there, Lieutenant! How do you know what happened?"

"I know your track record for twisting the facts, Rick. And now so does Emmie. She's only been here a week, and she already knows not to trust you."

Rick slowly stood up. "For your information, I _did_ give her back her money! I didn't want it in the first place!"

"Are you helping O'Shay?"

He scowled at the Lieutenant. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I'm gonna ask you again, Rick, because you know as well as I do the place is gonna be crawling with Feds. Are you involved in the Bohannon case?"

"No! O'Shay asked if I could get some contacts from Emmie Stockburne. He said it was for a friend. That's all he told me." The IAB agent spoke deliberately and maintained eye contact. Given Supervisor O'Shay's way of doing things, Horatio was fairly satisfied with Rick's answer.

"Just remember. If I find out that's why you've been prying Miss Stockburne, then it's you who's gonna get investigated this time."

He leveled his eyes at the Lieutenant. "You threatening me?"

Horatio turned to leave. "I'm promising you. Stay away from Miss Stockburne unless it's job-related. She reports directly to me. And just remember. Those family ties of hers can work both ways."

As Horatio walked out of the steamed IAB agent's office, his cell phone rang. He flipped it open. "Caine."

"It's Tyler. I was able to track some of those pictures. Supervisor O'Shay's friends didn't do a good job of hiding their tracks. Based on what you got from Dan Cooper, I was able to get bank statements and cell phone numbers."

"Nice work, Tyler!" Horatio snapped his cell phone shut and hurried toward the lab with a firm resolve.


	14. The Unraveling

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 14—The Uraveling**

Delko walked urgently into the lab. "Cal. Got your page. What did you find out?"

Calleigh looked at him firmly. "It looks like Keith Salter was telling the truth." She stood up and drew his attention to the copper strands that had been separated into two halves. "Up here in this area is positive for Keith's fingerprints and DNA." She motioned further down the strand toward the frayed ends. "If you look here, Keith's prints were separated into two. So he did hook the whole wire up into the lower part of that generator. But then it looks like after he did his work, the killer came in behind him and bifurcated the wire, hooking it up into the upper half of the generator. Prints on the lower half of the copper wiring match the prints and DNA on the upper and lower hatches of the backup generator. There's your five hundred volts."

Delko nodded thoughtfully. "Did we get anything off the ends?"

Calleigh nodded. "Just got a positive for prints. And our killer."

"Who?"

* * *

Horatio and Delko were prepared for anything as they knocked on the front door of the Galloway residence, hands on weapons. "Mr. Galloway? Miami-Dade PD" Horatio demanded.

No answer.

"Mr. Galloway?" he repeated, more urgently this time.

Delko looked at him, motioning toward the garage around back. "You hear that, H?" he nearly whispered.

Instinctively both Horatio and Delko drew their guns. "The garage."

The two CSI's and two uniformed officers crept cautiously to a humming sound in the garage. Horatio touched his nose as he glanced at Delko. "Car exhaust" he whispered. He wasted no time in opening the side door and was nearly overpowered by the smell and the fumes.

"Open that garage door! Call rescue!" he yelled to one of the uniformed officers He and Delko covered their noses with their sleeves and ran into the dark, smoky garage.

Mr. Galloway sat motionless in the driver's seat of his red Chevy Lumina, eyes closed, his head turned away. Delko yanked the driver's side door open as Horatio quickly wrapped both arms around him and pulled his pale, limp body out to the fresh air as quickly as he could, laying him on the concrete next to the garage. His skin was a pale gray, and his lips were blue. Horatio felt his neck. Cold. Nothing.

"Anything, H?"

The Lieutenant looked up at him and shook his head. "He's gone." He got up and sighed over the general manager's lifeless body. "Tell rescue to take their time!"

Delko waited for the fumes to clear before snapping on his latex gloves and peeking inside the Lumina's dark front seat. He shone his flashlight around the dark interior and found nothing remarkable, other than a red folder with a stack of photos, notes, and printed emails peeking out. Though he couldn't be completely sure this was a suicide, his instinct told him that, if not Mr. Galloway, someone had deliberately placed this on the front seat to be found. The CSI carefully picked it up and backed out of the darkened car.

"See anything, Eric?" Horatio wanted to know, standing beside Mr. Galloway and scanning the scene a little further.

"Yeah, H. There was this." Just a quick glance through the folder was enough to tell him that Paul Galloway was also a member of the Adult Diapers Club. He nodded sadly. "Mr. Galloway definitely had some secrets of his own. And this." He showed a small red electronics textbook to the Lieutenant who glanced at it.

Horatio peered over Delko's shoulder through his sunglasses. "An electronics manual. Looks like Mr. Galloway finished what Keith started. I think Mr. Galloway was leaving us a message." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Here's what I want you to do, Eric. Take this car and every photo, every piece of paper back to the lab. Alexx will post Mr. Galloway." He hung his head slightly as a husband and father had to die.

"I wonder if Mr. Galloway finally knew we were coming." Delko said.

"Somebody did. And they wanted to make sure we knew the whole story."

* * *

Special Agent Sackheim glanced at the federal subpoena one more time as he stood at the entrance with Horatio, Tyler, and two other FBI agents. Everybody was there, and everything he needed was in place.

Horatio put his hand on the red folder as he looked at Tyler. "You ready?"

Tyler nodded with a thankful smile. This was exacting justice. The Lieutenant was sure to let Tyler take this walk with him, not only because Emmie Stockburne had been recused from the case, but also because everyone felt that Tyler deserved it. "Thanks, Horatio."

Horatio and Tyler strained to keep up with Sackheim and his suited FBI colleagues as they stepped in their authoritative march quickly through the hallways, past bystanders, past uniformed officers, slowing down at the doorway of the main conference room.

A security guard stepped in front of the door and put up his hand. "I'm sorry, you can't go—"

Agent Sackheim seem to look right through him as he immediately produced his identification. "FBI. We have a Federal subpoena for Scott O'Shay" he said in a tone that implied that there would be no argument. The security guard knew immediately to step aside and let the five gentlemen through the doorway. All five gentlemen kept their determined expressions as they stepped into the crowded conference room into the glare of studio lights.

Supervisor O'Shay whipped his head at the unwelcome disturbance, obviously annoyed. "I'm in the middle of a press conference right now, gentlemen! Can it wait?" he said rather impatiently.

Agent Sackheim stepped to the side as Lieutenant Caine locked angry eyes with the supervisor.

"Supervisor O'Shay, maybe you can tell these reporters why you paid a Miami-Dade computer tech to traffick child pornography. Or why you used a dead police officer's credit card number to sell pornographic website access to your friends in the Adult Diapers Club." Without another word he quickly tossed the red folder clear across the brown conference room table in the same manner that Rick Stetler had done to him not long ago.

The horde of reporters wasted no time in pouncing on the folder's contents like a school of sharks attacking wounded prey, grabbing whatever documents and photographs they could reach within a split second.

Horatio motioned toward Tyler as he continued to look straight into the stunned supervisor's eyes. "And you didn't care if Tyler Jensen took the fall for it. Did you?"

Scott O'Shay now looked into Tyler's eyes. Tyler now gained his confidence in confronting the man who would have been just as happy to see him take the fall for all of this. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde supervisor.

The tone of the reporters changed from bored, organized and formal to charged, chaotic and frenzied. Adrenaline shot through Scott O'Shay as he now turned toward the shouting reporters who thrust microphones and lobbed a hailstorm of questions regarding the sudden turn of events.

"Is this in any way related to the Bohannon case?"

"Supervisor, did you murder Derrick Bohannon?"

"Can you tell us more about the Adult Diapers Club?"

"Are there any more city officials involved in this, Sir?"

Gathering himself, O'Shay knew he had lost this one. He now looked at Lieutenant Caine, whose scowl had turned into a victorious smile. His breath quickened as he then forced himself to face the frenzied mob of reporters and glaring lights.

"I'll issue an official statement concerning this later. This press conference is now over!" He could barely be heard above the din, but he didn't care as he and his entourage quickly exited by way of the other door. Security guards strained to keep O'Shay and his entourage separated from the media frenzy.

Horatio then motioned toward the door. "Tyler, I think we better let the Feds do their job now."

"Thanks, Horatio."


	15. Extending the Olive Branch

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**Chapter 15—Extending the Olive Branch**

Horatio stood in the viewing area of the morgue as he watched Alexx clean up after examining Paul Galloway. "What did you find out, Alexx?"

"Asphyxiation from carbon monoxide poisoning. Tox came back negative for any kind of drugs, and no signs of any blunt-force trauma. As far as I can tell, Mr. Galloway just walked into his garage, turned on his car, and slipped away." She removed some instruments for cleaning. "My work is done here."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Suicide."

"Too many secrets, Horatio." She then looked down at the pale body that was Mr. Galloway. "Too many secrets. It all caught up with you, Sweetie." She then carefully pulled the sheet over his head.

Horatio's cell phone rang. He snapped it open. "Caine. I'll be right there." He closed his phone and reholstered it. "Thanks, Alexx."

The blonde, middle-aged man stood up at the visitors' area and shook hands with Horatio. "Hi Lieutenant Caine. I guess you remember me? John Beckwith?"

"Mr. Beckwith. Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

The talk show host nodded at him sadly. "Yeah. Me too."

"Why don't we have a seat and talk? I have the feeling there's something you want to share with me."

The blonde gentleman sat down sadly at the table and clasped his fingers. "I just heard about Paul Galloway. Everybody knew something was wrong when he didn't show up for work this morning." He shook his head. "I just felt like I should come thank all of you and to apologize for all the trouble you had to go through."

"That's what we do, Mr. Beckwith."

"I guess now's not a good time to tell you this."

"I have a feeling there's more to this, Mr. Beckwith. I'd like you to tell me."

"A whole lot more. The day Bo died? We weren't gonna talk about the Adult Diapers Club thing." He shook his head with a sad smile. "I didn't even know where it all came from. I assumed he got it from an AP wire or an internet website, but I guess he knew about Paul Galloway all along."

"Go on."

John Beckwith lowered his eyes. "There was a pretty good reason why Derrick acted the way he did. His closest friends knew he had a drug and alcohol problem, and, well, Paul was gonna fire him. I knew and he knew that his days were numbered at WION. Derrick confided in me a lot, and he told me he was gonna get back at Paul. I guess I only just figured out what he meant."

Horatio stood up and paced thoughtfully. "Mr. Beckwith, I thought it was Scott O'Shay that you and Mr. Bohannon exposed on the air. Were you planning to go public about Paul Galloway too?"

The talk show host shook his head. "I don't know. I guess he threatened to. I hate to say it, but Derrick was getting a little out of control. I guess anything was possible."

"But now we'll never know, will we?" Horatio knew he could not discuss the finer points of the case, so he left that piece of the puzzle.

"I guess not." John paused and stared out the window. "Have you guys found any leads on what happened to Derrick?"

"I can't exactly say right now, Mr. Beckwith. But when we find anything, we'll let you know."

"That morning Paul and Bo had one hell of a fight in Paul's office." He laughed sadly. "I sure didn't know about Paul and this Diaper Club thing. Bo knew about Scott O'Shay, but hey, that's what we did. That was the crux of our radio show."

Horatio nodded. "The Poke in the Eye Guys."

John Beckwith smiled. "Yeah. I tell you what. Now some pretty heavy things are coming out in the news about Scott O'Shay. Fraud? Trafficking? Child porn distribution? When we went with this story, I had no idea we'd opened up such a can of worms. Usually when we go after the city's politicians, it's a parody, and it's all in fun. I didn't know how deep this thing was."

"That's okay, Mr. Beckwith. If you and Mr. Bohannon hadn't come forward with this story, I don't think we would have known, either. The truth is, we owe you and Mr. Bohannon a debt of gratitude. So, any idea where you're going from here?"

The man looked at Horatio with more assurance now. "I took a job in Jacksonville. I've already sold my condo, and my family is moving up there as we speak. No, I admit that it was tough after Bo died, but with Paul, well, that sealed the deal. It's time for us to go. It's not the drive time, but at least we get to stay in Florida this way." He sighed as he looked around the room. "You know, Lieutenant Caine, when I first started out in this business, I played forty-fives in a studio no bigger than this room in a town in Iowa you couldn't find on a map. I've been fired three times. Talk radio's big these days, but that doesn't mean it's comfortable. 'Poke in the Eye Guys' might sound a bit corny, but I know what I'm doing is important."

Horatio smiled at the man sympathetically. "And that's what matters."

John Beckwith reached into his portfolio. "I thought you might like a little something. This is from our number one show. Remember how I told you Bo brought in a copy of rude sound effects that one time? Well, the day we did that show, I got a call from you guys at the MDPD telling us traffic accidents almost doubled because people listening to us that day were laughing so hard. Who ever thought Bo and I had that many listeners on the drive time?" He handed Horatio a CD in a jewel case. "It's just a copy, though. I wanted the original as sort of something to remember Bo."

Horatio studied the jewel case and accepted it. "Rude sound effects."

The talk show host grinned. "Yeah. You can get a debate going on something as simple as whether farting is funny or not. On days we were off, that was our number one most requested show." He shrugged with a smile. "And that's what I like to do. Get you to talk. Get you to think. And if I can get you to laugh, hey, even better. Sounds like a lot of people here in Miami think that stuff is pretty funny."

Horatio raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Not just in Miami, Mr. Beckwith." He looked toward the computer lab. "I think I know who might have some use for this."

John Beckwith stood up and extended his hand to Horatio. "Well, Lieutenant, I might give our politicians a poke in the eyes, but I salute all you police officers. Thanks for everything. I better be going now, but I just wanted to say how much I appreciate everything you did."

The Lieutenant shook his hand. "Good luck, Mr. Beckwith. And don't stop poking."

* * *

Emmie had left the door to the switching room slightly open. Natalia slipped in and faced her. "Cyberagent Stockburne."

"Agent Boa Vista" Emmie answered, not taking her eyes off the crinkled routing map. "What can I do for you?"

Natalia stared at her for a moment. "Nothing. See you. Cyberagent."

Emmie narrowed her eyes as she turned toward her former nemesis. "I earned that title! What did _you_ do besides wreck a few careers?"

The CSI turned toward her former rival. "That was a long time ago!"

"Not long enough. Garrett was just two years from retirement as memory serves."

"I know what I saw."

"And I know what you didn't see. Tell me. How is it Garrett went down and Peeler walked away clean? You had to have seen what he was doing." Emmie folded her arms and glared at Natalia now. "And how do I know you're not still at it?"

"I'm _not_ still at it! And for your information, I gave this lab a good report" she insisted.

"Yeah? Well you can be damn sure I'm gonna do some checking. We _cyber_agents have a long reach."

Natalia turned to leave. "Whatever. I'm just trying to be nice. You're the only one keeping all that alive."

Emmie sighed as she looked hard at the black switching panel she had just installed. "Natalia, wait. Please?"

Her former nemesis turned and looked at her expectantly.

"Peeler was the main reason I left the FBI. It was getting dangerous in there. After my husband died, I had to bail."

Natalia nodded. "I knew, Emmie. I couldn't prove it. Why didn't you ask one of your uncles to do something? You were pretty good at that."

"Because fire with fire doesn't always work. I knew people, but so did he." She dipped her eyes understandingly. She knew she could talk in the switching room away from curious ears. "That dirtbag never forgave me for cracking the Talladega case. He thought he should've gotten all the credit for that one." She now looked up at Natalia. "I don't know a whole lot of people here."

"I know exactly what you mean. And Emmie?"

"I'm listening."

Natalia faced her. "I'm sorry about your husband."

Emmie just bowed her head. "Thanks."


	16. Learning to Dream Again

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

**A/N: This is the final chapter in this work. I would like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews and emails. You are too numerous to mention, and your kind words meant more to me than I can say. I'm glad you enjoyed reading this work as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you.**

**Chapter 16—Learning to Dream Again**

Horatio fingered his sunglasses thoughtfully as he walked with Special Agent Sackheim through the front entrance.

"Like to thank you for your work on the Bohannon case, Lieutenant" Sackheim said, facing him at the front entrance.

"My pleasure. I'm just glad we were able to clear Tyler."

"Me too. So what do you think will happen?"

The Lieutenant looked out through the glass doors. "The stepson will probably get by with a misdemeanor assault charge. I'm sure the attorney's office will plead it down. What can you tell me about Mr. Cooper?"

"He's agreed to turn state's evidence. Probably probation and a slap on the hands for his testimony."

"O'Shay?"

"Him and half his pals? Money laundering, illegal internet trafficking. Child porn distribution. At the very least his career here is over. Maybe you ought to think about moving up, Lieutenant."

Horatio smiled. "Some other time."

Special Agent Sackheim slipped out of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab entrance, well away from a parade of handcuffed members of the Adult Diapers Club. He was especially sure to keep his distance from Erica Sykes who stood dutifully in front of her camera crew as she covered every possible detail.

"Ready for the weekend, Tyler?" Emmie asked as she logged out.

Tyler looked at her with a grateful smile. "Yeah. Hey, Emmie, thanks for everything. I owe you."

She smiled back. "That's okay. You'll learn to hate me in time."

He chuckled. "No I won't. See you Monday." He picked up his bag as he turned to leave.

Emmie picked up the picture of her and Dex at their last military ball. She opened the frame, removed the picture, and replaced it with one of just her wearing her red ball gown. As much as she still missed Dex, it was time for her to go on alone. It was a reality she never wanted to face, but as a Navy SEAL, Dex was married to his career. She dusted off the picture frame and bowed her head before setting it carefully next to the computer console and heading outside.

She stood out on the front steps, certain to keep her distance from the news cameras while rummaging for her car keys.

"Miss Stockburne" a familiar voice said behind her.

She turned around. "Hey Sir."

Horatio stood next to her, hands on hips, wearing his sunglasses. "Got any plans this evening?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Probably head home and cook something."

"Nice job on clearing Tyler. How about a congratulatory dinner? Rumor has it you like seafood."

She smiled, not sure what to do. "Sir, please. Don't fuss over me."

"I was thinking the Portside restaurant. It's right by the cruise ship port. And don't worry. This time I'm buying. You have my word."

"That'd be great. Okay if I follow—"

Both their heads whipped around in surprise as an out-of-breath Rick Stetler hurried through the glass doors.

"Emmie! Glad I caught you. If you're not busy tonight—" he started to say with one hand up.

"Miss Stockburne's already got plans this evening, Rick" Horatio said firmly. "Come on, Emmie. You can follow me if you can keep up."

Rick glared after his nemesis before going back inside.

She laughed. "I don't believe this! Are the two of you fighting over me?"

"I just thought you'd like a break from playing politics."

"Thanks, Sir."

Horatio was sure to get them a window seat. Emmie listened to him, occasionally glancing out at the massive cruise ships. She really felt as though she could relax and talk freely now.

"Thanks for taking me here, Sir. This is a beautiful view. I'd love to go on one of those cruise ships one day."

"You're gonna have to save up some vacation time for that."

"Actually, I'll have to save up more than that." She then broke into her musical laughter. "Oh, and thank you for the rude sound effects CD. Would you believe Tyler and I used it to test the AV equipment? It has the full range of sound levels, so it's perfect for that."

The Lieutenant smiled. "Actually I would."

"We had a ball with it! I gave Eric Delko a copy on my microcassette recorder." She could barely contain her laughter. "He stuck it in Frank Tripp's desk. I heard somebody came by and left some antacid on his desk!" She caught her breath and smiled. "But I guess word got out. Sergeant Stetler came downstairs and chewed me out for my lack of professional behavior. He reminded me that this was a crime lab, not Beavis and Butthead."

"Yes, Rick's an expert on professional behavior. What'll you have?"

Emmie glanced at the menu. "I'm really thinking their shrimp scampi with white wine sounds great."

"So are you adjusting to Miami okay, Emmie?" Horatio asked.

She nodded thoughtfully. "I think it'll all be okay. If I didn't learn about adjusting by now, there's no hope for me. I mean it was a long, hard road last year. I lost my home, my husband, my career with the FBI."

"I think I can understand."

"I hear you lost your wife not too long ago."

Horatio looked out sadly at the water. "As a matter of fact I did."

Emmie nodded. "I'm very sorry." She looked down at the tablecloth. "No, the Navy told me it was a 'training accident.' That's the standard answer when you marry a Navy SEAL. Sometimes I'd like to think I knew what I was getting into."

"Well, it looks as though Mr. Wolfe is taking an interest in you."

She chuckled. "He's not the only one, Sir. Any advice on what to do about Sergeant Stetler? Although I think we both know what he's really after."

"If Rick gets to be a problem, you talk to me. And remember what we discussed about your contacts."

"Right. No pulling favors unless the request comes directly from you."

After dinner Horatio led Emmie out to the deck to watch the sunset over the Miami harbor. "I think you'll be just fine here, Emmie."

"I think you're right." She smiled and hung her head down. "I'm now just beginning to dream again. It feels great." She paused. "Well, can you give me directions to the Old Broward Highway from here so I can find my way home? I lost my GPS somewhere between here and Alabama."

"I'll do better than that. I'll lead you there."

It was almost completely dark when Emmie arrived at her parents' property where she rented a guest house from them. The sun had completely set now, and she watched the faint light of the canal that floated out to the sea. Stryker, her silver tabby, brushed against her leg and looked up at her hopefully. She picked him up and cuddled him.

"Hey, Fuzzball. Come on up here."

The silence of the evening began to give way to the sounds of the crickets and frogs. Emmie sat and listened to the wind hissing through the palm trees and watched the canal go out to sea as she pet the silver tabby that settled on her lap.

"I think we'll be okay here."

END


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